


i'll protect you, even if you're not mine to protect

by orphan_account



Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men First Class (2011), X-Men RPF
Genre: #metryingtoberealistic, Actor RPF - Freeform, Bryan Singer Ships Cherik, CUZ THAT'S DISGUSTING, Cherik - Freeform, Fassavoy FRIENDSHIP, Gah it's complicated, Get Ready Google, I should though, I'm going to have to look up a lot of stuff for this, In reality it's actually very simple and this would never happen during a movie, Jennifer is Adorable, M/M, Michael and Zoe NEVER DATED, Michael is a sweetheart, My first RPF, Personally I don't ship them together, Stan Lee Tho, The Michael/James tag is kind of irrelavent because they're not actually together, just ew, perhaps, you might like it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 12:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4960621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael can't do it. He can't shoot Charles in Cuba. How could someone do that?</p><p>Sure, maybe Kevin, but that wasn't the point. This was his <i>Charles</i> he was going to shoot. James, he might add. He'd spent months of filming and unresolved sexual tension and... for what, paralyzing him?</p><p>He can <i>literally</i> hear Erik in his head telling him to change the script. Of course, it can't <i>actually</i> be Erik, that'd be insane.</p><p>But he hears him.</p><p>Whatever it is, Michael just can't do it. Even if the threat of either ruining a movie or getting replaced by Ewan McGregor is being held over his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm taking a small, teeny tiny break from my other fic just for a bit, and I decided to write this because it's been stuck in my head 5-fucking-ever. It's like I can hear Michael hear Erik in his head. Then I can hear Bryan Singer's voice talking to Matthew Vaughn about Michael hearing Erik hurting Charles.
> 
> JUST HELP ME.
> 
> If you can't tell I have no idea what goes on in a movie, so all this stuff is complete bs. It's supposed to be cute, not accurate.

As Michael read the script, he was intrigued. It was well-written, humorous, but also fluid and full of foreshadow. (And Hollywood cliches. Seriously, did X-Men _have_ to have the black guy die first? Jesus.)

The relationship between Charles and Erik was so tangible Michael felt he could cut it with a knife. It was so colorful _,_ and very gay, Jen had added to him once. Not that Michael cared at all about that kind of thing. Cute wasn't the word he would use for the relationship of his and James' characters. More like... real. The character dynamics flowed with each other perfectly.

Which was _exactly_ why he couldn't shoot him.

Yes, he knew that he was acting, and yes, he knew that it would bring in tons of money to the studio and whatnot, but _... Charles._

Oh, and the fans. He was very well aware of the fanfiction and fanart around the Internet, and some of it was quite charming. (While some of it... wasn't.) There would be extreme outrage there, he was sure.

Bringing this up to Matthew wasn't easy.

"Michael, we've changed the script so many times! We have to go with this one," the director said exasperatedly. Stan lingered in the background, intrigued at Michael's sudden change of heart. He also looked pissed, though.

"I can't do it," Michael protested, pointing to the script.

"What, is it an acting capability?" Bryan asked. (He appeared out of nowhere sometimes. It was some freaky shit.)

"No..."

"A moral kind of thing?"

"No."

"Then... what is it?" Stan finally said. Michael sighed, suddenly feeling a soft hand on his shoulder and a light scent of cologne.

"I think he just doesn't want to have to deal with the criticism shooting my character would bring," laughed James lightheartedly as Matthew rolled his eyes. There were times that Michael had to remind himself to thank his lucky stars for meeting James. He'd been a pretty good friend, more than, actually, and he couldn't say he wasn't surprised when he found out there was more of the fan-made stories and drawings about them. He never let himself indulge on those, though. James had a wife and a child, and he just didn't see him in that way. (Of course, _some_ people did.)

"Alright, alright, I'll look into it, but there's only a five percent chance Ashley will approve." Bryan grumbled--which somehow he was able to make it sound cheerful--and walked away, Matthew and Stan quickly after.

"What's this with you and your attachment to my fictional character?" James teased, coming into full view from behind Michael.

"It's not an _attachment--"_

"Right."

"I would know if it was an attachment or not!"

"I can read minds, you know. That's why they cast me, because I can literally play the part." James joked, and it was almost like he was in an interview. _Well, interviews are practically interrogations, just nicer,_ Michael thought. _And that's how James does things: Nicer._ "Normally, I ask permission..."

"Oh, shush," Michael growled, slinging an arm around the smaller man's shoulders.

"What is it, if it's not an attachment then?" asked James.

Michael paused for a moment. It wasn't, not really. It was almost like... "It's an obligation," Michael said without thinking.

"To who? Erik?" chuckled James lightly. Michael looked down at him and saw a mixture of confusion, humor and actual concern on his face. _Goddammit,_ he hissed to himself for no particular reason other than one of his best friends thinking he was crazy.

"Sure." said Michael dryly.

"Alright, I guess," shrugged the Scot. "I mean, I'm Charles wouldn't mind you taking his mobility into account." With that, he walked back to the set where everyone was preparing January for her interrogation scene.

 

 _I would never hurt Charles, you know that,_ a voice that sounded incredibly like his own growled in Michael's head. Beside him Ashley was berating him for wanting to change the script, saying that he'd revised it so many times he couldn't even imagine another scenario.

 _What the fuck?_ Michael thought. He could've sworn it was his own voice, but it sounded different. It rolled its r's and was more threatening. _Holy shit._

There was no way that he was thinking of what his character would say. _Never._ He wasn't _that_ crazy, was he? (He was getting emails from people who wanted to cast him as a musician named Frank that wore a fake head. And he was considering it. So maybe.) Ashley gave one last sigh before going to talk to Jane.

 _Bitte,_ the voice that was _definitely not Erik Lehnsherr's_ pleaded. _Ich bitte Sie._

 _Go the fuck away,_ Michael growled at himself. _You aren't fucking real._

Erik did.

 

"So, how's saving my character coming along?" James asked as Michael walked onto the set. He was in his grey workout suit--which Michael thought was completely unflattering, especially with the sweat stains Bryan insisted on putting on--while James was able to wear a suit.

 _You know it looks good on him,_ Erik's voice--which had been haunting him for days now--told him. Michael shook his head and shrugged.

"It isn't really saving your character, rather than saving myself from all the angry girls that will flip their shit if I do it." he replied.

"Why girls?"

"Have you _seen_ the internet?" chuckled Michael before getting into position. James was handed an empty gun which looked unnatural in his hands. The grey weapon seemed to glare at Michael from the porcelain white skin of his friend's palm.

"Action," Matthew called out. With that, James raised the gun to Michael's forehead. The metal was cool against his skin.

"You're sure about this?" James--Charles now, he guessed--asked tentatively. Michael nodded, remembering to grin like an idiot and hold his hands up to his head. After a few seconds, James lowered the gun.

"No, no, I can't shoot anyone point blank, especially my friend," he sighed.

"Oh c'mon, you know I can deflect it!" protested Michael, grabbing James' hands and positioning them back at his head. As expected, the other man tore away.

"If you _know_ you can deflect it then you're not _challenging_ yourself!" he snapped, his blue eyes boring holes into Michael's. "I mean..." James turned to look at the field to his right. "What happened to the man who tried to lift a submarine?"

"I can't... Something that big--I need the situation, the anger--"

"The anger's not _enough_ _,"_ James retorted, his conviction almost causing Michael to take a step back. It scared him sometimes to be reminded how powerful of an actor James really was. (Not that he ever could really forget.) "Come here, I want to try something." He patted Michael on the shoulder, a beckoning gesture, and strode over to the stone wall. The cameras followed suit. James jerked his chin out at the satellite--which wasn't actually there--and looked back at Michael. "Try and make it face us."

Michael turned and took a deep breath. He held out his arms, tightening his arms and joints, and put a look of effort on his face. Then, he threw them down and leaned on the stone wall with a gasping exhale.

"Michael, look over at James like you're sorry," Matthew called out. So Michael turned his head, his chest heaving with an apologetic expression. "Alright James, smile slightly--" James did. "--yeah, that's great, okay, line!"

"You know, I believe that focus lies between rage and serenity," James said. Michael looked at him quizzically. A small laugh tore from James' chest, and Michael couldn't tell if that was because he thought it was in-character or because the look on his face was hilarious. "Do you mind if I...," he wiggled his fingers beside his temples. He nodded, and James closed his eyes.

At that point, Michael knew that he was supposed to be remembering Hanukkah with his dead mother. It was supposed to be an emotional scene, but Michael couldn't feel it like he normally could. Instead of wracking grief and anger, he felt... nothing. Then, suddenly, he heard Erik's voice in his head again. No, not his voice, his _feelings._ Absolute rage and ripping love that cut through him like knives and lion's claws and flamethrowers torching his flesh raced through Michael's head. He stumbled back, gasping, his eyes filling up with tears from the raw _pain_ he was experiencing. 

Matthew and Bryan were exchanging surprised, almost delighted looks.

"What... What did you do to me?" he rasped. James, being the amazing actor that he was, wiped an actual tear from his cheek.

"I accessed the brightest corner of your memory system... That was a very beautiful memory Erik, thank you." he said, his voice catching.

"I didn't know I still had that," admitted Michael, silently thanking Erik for the assistance.

"There's so much more to you than you know. Not just pain, and anger. There's good too, I felt it." James said, taking a step closer. "Once you harness this power, you'll be more powerful than anyone, even me."

Something beautiful and shocked rushed through Michael's chest, and again, he knew it wasn't his own emotions. They were Erik's. "Now, try this again," James prompted lightly. Once more Michael held out his arms and, with a real tear that was still flowing down the side of his face, felt as if a real satellite were moving beneath his fingers. James laughed, bright and cheerful, and a spike of something Michael couldn't explain practically stabbed him in the heart. But, apparently, this was a _good_ feeling.

 _His eyes are bluer than anything I've ever seen,_ Erik thought wistfully. Michael froze. The thought was fucking _dripping_ with adoration and want. Possibly lust. And then he knew why he couldn't man up and shoot Charles.

Because his character was in love with him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael realizes that listening to Erik can have good and bad outcomes.
> 
> Also, he develops a newfound hatred for Rose Byrne. Which is pretty unhealthy, because James is around her all the time. And Erik ~~doesn't like~~ _hates_ it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few nights ago--because this is TOTALLY relevant and pertinent information you must know--I had the most awesome, weird dream in the history of all my weird dreams. (And I had one where I got eaten by the gingerbread man from Shrek.) 
> 
> I dreamed. My biological father. Was.
> 
> Michael.
> 
> IT WAS AMAZING YOU HAVE NO IDEA LIKE... I GOT TO HUG HIM AND SIT ON HIS LAP--I was like, seven apparently in the dream--JUST... YES IT WAS SO COOL
> 
> Now, sadly I realize that is the closest I will ever get to the man, but at least my brain supplied me that.
> 
> (Your day is better now from knowing that I not only had a dream that I MET Michael Fassbender, but was directly RELATED to him. Not really. But whatever.)
> 
> Yay, getting to know about my dreams!

After the "rage and serenity" scene, Michael decided to trust Erik. He _was_ an extension of himself, after all. If his character was giving him tips on how to portray him, then by all means Michael was going to take advantage of it. Utilize, he meant. Whatever.

Hilariously enough, he even had a small amount of support from his co-stars, mostly James and Jen. Jennifer just because she was very... intrigued by the relationship.

"No, I'm _not_ in favor of changing the scene to beach sex!" Michael said--a little louder than he probably should've--to Jennifer as she wore a shit-eating grin. Ever since word got out that Michael wanted to change the outcome of Cuba, everyone seemed to be teasing him about it. And Jen was plain out _assaulting_ him with the knowledge that he wanted such a thing.

"Aw, but why not?" she asked, her blue body already applied. "It would be pretty sexy."

"This is exactly why I shouldn't tell you things." he mumbled into his coffee. At eight in the morning, he wasn't exactly ready for a torment of ideas involving sexual intercourse with anybody, _especially_ James, _es_ _pecially_ when he promised himself that this would be his rebound movie that kids could watch since  _Jonah Hex_ or _A Bear Named Winnie._ He wasn't exactly sure that should've counted as PG, anyway. (Kissing a bear was something he'd never thought he'd do. Ever. But he had, so.)

"No, this is exactly why you _should_ tell me things." corrected Jennifer immediately, "This has given me more purpose in life than anything else I've ever done." 

"That's sad."

"Oh no, I heartily disagree," Caleb snickered as he ate an apple. Jennifer made an "I told you so" face at Michael, and even though it was incredibly childish of a thirty-five year old man to do, he stuck his tongue out at her. She ended up laughing, almost falling out of her chair.

"Mother of all that's holy," James exclaimed when he almost tripped over a doubled over Caleb. A minute later Jen was okay, though Michael was sure that if she wasn't wearing the body paint her face would be redder than Caleb's apple. "What is going on?"

"I'm pretty sure I'm reconsidering my career choice." quipped Michael. With the sudden presence of James, something--and by something, he meant a fictitious German metal-bender with a thing for James' character--purr in the back of his mind. _Oh my fucking God,_ he groaned mentally.

 _It's not_ technically _me,_ Erik pointed out with a tone of voice that almost always was accompanied by a sneer, _You could stop me if you really wanted to._

 _Oh believe me, I do,_ Michael shot back.

 _Nein, Sie nicht tun,_ thought Erik, and it took Michael a moment to dig back into his German word bank. _No, you don't,_ Erik had said to him.

Damn. Even a fake comic book villain knew him better than he himself did.

 

Michael started to catalog things Erik did or thought or felt. Most of the time he surfaced whenever James was around, which was often. During filming he was particularly loud, but recently Michael had been able to block him out, for the most part at least.

One thing Erik did that drove Michael mad was whenever Rose was around. Or just in the building. However, when she was near James was when Erik was the loudest. It was a literal cacophony of _Moira Moira Moira Moira_ and _get away from him you dirty, bitchy, miserable slag._ Actually, Erik was probably the one person with a more colorful vocabulary than Michael. Which was saying things.

This newfound hatred of Rose Byrne was becoming a serious problem.

Oh, _especially_ when Michael was watching the playback of the rage and serenity scene. (Maybe Jen _was_ right--there was definitely some chemistry between the two.) As soon as Rose peeked her head through the window, Michael felt a stab of molten rage slice through his brain. He felt like the world was melting into burning hot anger. James, who had been watching closely from behind Bryan's shoulder, turned to see Michael's eyes shut tight and his jaw clenched. Almost immediately he was by his side after it was over.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently, grabbing one of Michael's balled-up fists and kneading it out into a flat palm. "You look like you're delivering a child or something."

"Migraine," Michael gritted out. It was true, for the most part. The light from the computer dazzled in the back of his skull and even James' gentle tone sounded like a church bell.

"Ah. I have some Advil, if you need any." offered James, jerking his head in the direction of his trailer. Half of him wanted to politely accept, and the other very  half wanted to run into James' arms and never let him go or touch Rose Byrne. Taking an educated guess as to which was more sensible, he just opened his mouth. He didn't know if it was even to say yes, but it didn't matter because James was already towing him over there anyway.

"Ja-James...!" he managed as the smaller man tugged him by his elbow. The Erik portion of his mind was laughing, more at how Michael was almost flowing in the wind behind James as he pulled him along. Distantly he heard a wolf whistle.

"Oh, shut it Lucas," James said--there was almost no sting to it at all--and then they were in his trailer. Michael was handed a glass of water and some ibuprofen. He gratefully took it.

"Thanks." he croaked. Erik was gone, for the most part, other than the hum of contentment that followed James' hand brushing his shoulder. Michael shivered slightly when he heard, _The way he could unravel me._ Jesus _Christ,_ his character was bordering the line of romanticism and perverseness almost dangerously.

"You've been acting wee bit off," James said.

"Err...," began Michael, his throat tightening. God, how was he supposed to explain this? _Oh, you know, I'm just practically being possessed by my fictional character because he's in love with your fictional character and he doesn't want to hurt him. So, yeah._

So, nope.

"Well... It just kind of hit me how important this franchise is... And, um. You know." he stammered. James looked as if that was an acceptable enough answer.

"Yeah, I can practically hear Patrick Stewart's version taunting me," he joked, and while Michael knew it wasn't true, he wished it were. Kind of. _I'm sure_ _he'd run screaming in the other direction, he's a heartless conservative bastard with absolutely no curiosity,_ Erik snapped at him sarcastically. _Just fucking tell him._

 _Stop giving me suggestions,_ Michael snarled.

 _You're giving_ yourself _suggestions, mind,_ replied the metal-bender.

"McKellan won't shut up sometimes, I swear," Michael chuckled. _No,_ you _won't shut up sometime_ _s,_ he reminded himself.

"I wish I could hear my version," James admitted. "Yeah, I know it's crazy, but at least I could get some decent pickup lines."

"Genetic pickup lines."

"The best kind." James agreed, weaving his fingers behind his head as he leaned into a chair. He closed his eyes and waves of calm and love emanated from a corner of Michael's brain. This time he made no attempt to shut it up.

 

Another thing Michael had started to do--this one was definitely fueled by Erik--was noticing stuff about James. Not just the things everyone knew about or saw, but little things, like how in this movie his face seemed fuller. He guessed this was because Charles had grown up with everything he needed.

James also: bit his lip more than should be allowed in the United States, made sideways glances to Michael or whoever was in the vicinity when he was bored, was double-jointed, shamelessly flirted but in such a way that everyone knew he was joking, to name a few of many he had come to realize.

What was creepier than noticing them, however, was how Erik reacted to them. It _had_ to be Erik, because Michael would never say that someone's lips should be banned, or that someone's eyes reminded them of his mother's favorite apron. (Well, the last one wasn't _that_ terrible, but his mother wore a red apron, which made him _hope_ he would never have to say that.)

"Still going on your script crusade?" Stan asked one day. Michael was humbled by his presence most of the time, but at certain points, Stan Lee was one scary-ass bastard. This was an example of that.

"Wouldn't call it a crusade, exactly," Michael replied, his mouth going dry at the way Stan was looking at him, like he was his conservative grandfather who had just found out he was gay.

"Mm," was the other man's only reply before walking off. Michael shivered and turned the other way.

That creepy son of a bitch.

 

"Michael, we made one minor adjustment. But that's all we could do." Bryan said to him. He held out the script.

Originally, Erik had deliberately shot at Charles. It wasn't in character, and it just wasn't right.

Now Moira was shooting at Erik and Erik deflected a bullet into Charles' back. Michael couldn't tell if this was any better, because Erik was still hurting him, and Charles would still despise Erik and everything that came with the other scripts. But, at least now the audiences could blame it on someone else. Someone other than Erik, other than Michael.

"Oh," was all Michael could manage. "Yeah, this'll be better."

 _No, no it wouldn't!_ Erik protested. _I'm still hurting him, I'm still breaking him--_

 _Shut the fuck up, okay?_ he hissed at his character.

"Yeah? Good." Bryan muttered. "Between you and me, I say ditch the entire thing. Yes, I know there's some story-line we have to follow, but wouldn't it be cool if Erik stayed instead? Trained with Charles? I mean, we _all_ know they're gay for each other, so why not expand on that?"

Michael nodded slowly, taking it all in. Leave it to Bryan Singer to voice Michael's own thoughts. "I guess it wouldn't be X-Men, at that point."

"Sure it would. I'm like, ninety percent sure there's an alternate universe where that happens."

"As much as I would love for that to work, it just... wouldn't." Michael sighed as he handed Bryan back the script. "Thanks. You know. For changing it."

"This version makes more sense anyway," shrugged Bryan. "Erik would never hurt Charles on purpose. He loves him too much."

 _See,_ Erik sneered. _Even_ he _knows it._

 _God, go away for once,_ hissed Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guys give me suggestions/critiques/anything to help improve my writing? I just want to be able to make a readable story with correct grammar and plot and stuff. 
> 
> All this support is making me cry asdfgjkl thank you so much

**Author's Note:**

> Personally, I think that Ewan McGregor looks like Michael. Kind of.
> 
> For those of you who don't agree, go watch the movie Moulin Rouge. Or Star Wars episodes two and three. 
> 
> Michael's actually in a movie with Ewan tf... Just found that out a few hours after typing that
> 
>  
> 
> Okay, also all these quotes are mostly from what I can remember from the fifty times I've watched First Class, so if some are not correct don't hate me I'm just lazy.


End file.
